This September we are featuring stories about social justice. Much of the world still struggles for life and liberty.
Throughout her 11 months on the World Race, Erica Wood of 2014 K Squad saw brokenness throughout the world. But nothing wrecked her as much as a 5-year-old girl in Albania.
I’ve been traveling the world for ten months now, working in slums, schools, brothels and remote villages that have never heard the gospel. I’ve watched stories of brokenness and pain unfold on four different continents.
But never in these past ten months have I been wrecked like that night in a beautiful sea-front town in Albania.
Katy and I sat on wide marble steps, eating gelato and watching people stream past. Europeans are fascinating in the way they walk, talk, and dress. I could have people-watched all night.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man walk up to the base of the steps with a small child in one hand and a large, torn up cardboard box in the other. He set the child down, ripped up the cardboard box a little more, and arranged the little girl inside the box.
First he had her legs out in front of her. Then he changed his mind, making her curl up in the box. Then he changed his mind again and sat her back upright. Satisfied, he placed one coin in a tray in front of her and walked away.
No, no, no. He did not just leave that child sitting in a cardboard box to solicit money, did he? No! Take her home, snuggle her close, read her a story, and tuck her into bed!
As a foreigner, I was confused and angry. I felt helpless. That may be a natural response for someone in my position, but thinking about it, I realized one thing: I was not helpless.
I asked my teammate next to me, “Katy, what would Jesus do if he were sitting here?”
“I think he would go to the child,” she replied.
So we did. We walked down the stairs and sat down, one on either side of her. I held her tiny hand, stroked her hair, and wept.
No one brushes her hair. It was matted and filthy. No one washes her face. It was covered in dirt.
As I wept, Katy prayed. I picked the girl up out of the cardboard box and snuggled her close, kissing her matted hair, holding her hand.
Eventually, her dad, or boss, or whoever he was, saw us and came back over. We couldn’t speak each other’s languages, but Katy managed to discovered that our little friend was Mary Nella, and she was five years old.
Then her father picked her up, shook our hands, and walked away.
This morning I was praying for Mary Nella and Jesus said, “She is mine. She cannot be touched.”
Mary Nella has a Father who does not leave her out at night to beg. She has a Father who snuggles her close. The love I feel for Mary Nella pales beside the love of her Creator.
I have to believe she is going to be okay.
*The photo of a girl like Mary Nella by Jill Childress
How does Mary Nella’s story move you to act? How does her story change the way you think about poverty?
Is God calling you on the World Race to help girls like Mary Nella? Click here to see how you could go in 2016.
